The First Sign
by whatisitwouldntbe
Summary: A three shot or so of Jasper and Alice's first kiss.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: More to this soon! This is just what I have so far. (= Please review!

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His near piercing red eyes are boring into mine, curiosity and admiration surging through them. Smiling wryly, I raise a hand, pressing my nimble fingers against the corner of his left eye. Playfully, he flinches, a faint smirk spreading slowly across his heavily scarred face. I push my bottom lip out in a faux pout, mocking begging for forgiveness for his so-called 'pain'. A deep chuckle presses against his tightly clamped together lips, and like that, I'm instantly forgiven.

My fingertips trace from his bushy brow down to the corner of his eye, and hesitantly I lean in closer to him. The space between us shrinks from six inches to two, and his breath hitches, eyes still swamped into mine.

I expect him to back away, to frown, boorishly scowling at me for getting /far/ too close to a creature like him; and his eyes, later begging for forgiveness for his ill manners. I expect myself to roll my eyes at his near shouts, keeping quiet, low; I would murmur something something about his asinine attitude, about how he could become the first vampire to ever have the need to receive prescription eye wear. I expect to have it repeat, again, again; his guard not letting down, keeping his space once more.

Not knowingly, I blink. One second his sharp, glorious face is heaving closer to mine, and the next; a clear foot stands between the both of us, contemplation on whether to tear his eyes from mine clear in his eyes. My eyes continue to stare, and my bottom lip is suddenly captured between the sharp points of my glistening teeth.

His eyes begin take a hardening look, and I can tell that his decision has been made, for a sense of certainty - of keeping as he stated once of keeping me "sane" - has clenched every aspect of his glinting red eyes.

"What?" His voice is low, deep; it's easy to tell of his birthplace from his alluring accent.

I look away, letting out an airy sigh between my teeth. Rejected- again. Was I loosing my touch? I could have sworn that it was going to happen soon, but, then again.../this/ over and over.

His eyes narrow. I can nearly feel the prying, near imperceptible sound of his soft, butter lids clenching tensely. My hand is still on his cheek, the distance did nothing of my removal of our flesh again flesh.

Silence overwhelms the both of us, seeming thick enough to cut through with a single point of a nail. I can feel near warmth spurring from my soft fingers from his smooth skin, and I relish in it.

My eyes shut as well, head lurching downward in a bow stance. A sudden cool breeze smacks against my hand, and my head snaps. I can now count the number of plugs on the wall north of me, the dust bunnies cluttered on the side of the wall. My brows furrow, and my head pivots throughout the room, eyes searching.

A hand is threaded through his honey-dew locks, standing next to our hotel window. I can tell that his eyes are stone hard, for his shirt is skintight. His back is wound tensely, and I can nearly count the ripples of his toned flesh. It takes me seconds to recognize that I'm now staring and my bottom lip is constricted between my near razor sharp teeth. I take a loud sigh, as an attempt to control my emotions, in spite of frustrating him any further.

"Alice." His voice breaks through my //own// frustrations at simmering my emotions down, causing me to become speechless, my attempts to be dissolved. He doesn't turn, but I stand up, the small thumps of my heels echoing throughout our room. My damn nerves quiver- what //am// I suppose to tell him?

'Oh, you know how I can tell the future and all? Yes, yes. Well, I was just taking a small peek - out of utter boredom, of course- and I saw that you were going to kiss me soon. I was just wondering, proposing nearly, if you could do it sometime soon, my dear sir? Before I burst from this emotional tension, and jump you, ripping that tight shirt off of you, my nails clawi-'

A pale, scarred hand snaps their fingers in front of my face. I blink, my eyes meeting with a stoic facade, amusement only lightly threading through his eyes.

"Alice? Alice? Coming out of 'Wonderland' anytime soon?" He jokes, voice low. I take notice that his face is merely an inch away from mine at this point, and my breath hitches.

I blink, foolishly, for his face is backing away when my eyes flip open. My eyes peer up into his, lightly pleading, for a touch, an answer, a feeling...a //something//. I widen my gold pair ever so slightly, jutting my bottom lip outwards.

I've gotten to him, I can tell; he gulps, rubbing the back of his neck with his wide palm. I try to fight back a grin, and right when I think that I can take advantage of his distressed moment, the gentlemen in him breaks out.

He's giving me one of //those// glances, making me feel nearly as if he is my father, telling me to stay away from some mere boy that I'm chasing in the pursuit of reviving tense hormones.

The emotional current between us changes, though, when he swiftly walks past me, hands deep in his pockets, taking my frustration, rejection, lust. I'm left with nothing, feeling numb from toe to head. I take in a long breath, and my eyes divert to him once more, turned away from me.

He mirrors my sigh, and startled, I look up at him. The muscles underneath his skintight shirt flex, immediately relaxing as exhales his breath. As his shoulders slouch back, my breath is hitching at simply at the manner that he is continuing to ply against himself, venom beginning to over flood my mouth, nearly drip-

He turns, shooting the glance downwards at me once more.

I could swear that if I weren't what I was, my cheeks would be blazing in embarrassment; I smile wearily up at him, hoping that my smile would be enough to ask for forgiveness.

Seeming annoyed, he turns his back on me, ruffling his hair, as he casts his head downward.

Biting my lip, I'm swaying from each side to side in my spot. My lips pop open, daring to break the silence.

"Jasper, I-"

His eyes, red, darkening are now on me. He's merely glancing over his shoulder as if I was insignificant, as if I was a mere bird the brushed against his shoulder, startling him.

My nerves quiver, and he lets out a single chuckle, his face wrinkling ever so slightly in mild amusement. I can still tell, though, a hardness that lays laced through his darkening eyes.

"Alice..." He began, and I can easily distinguish his southern twang.

Another quiver. I take a step forward.

"Jasper." My voice is cringed with a sense of confidence. My hands are placed on my hips, looking up at him with a near brilliant smile. I praise myself; at least I didn't stutter, as the situation clearly set me up to do. Nerves are still quivering, as he turns fully at me, smiling half-way.

"Red." I blurt out, as he meets his red eyes with mine. It was a logical thing to blurt out, I think, considering that at one second I'm staring at his chin, and the next his oval, red eyes. His face falls at my quite random word, brows furrowing. Shaking, my cheeks feeling as if they would be bright red, I capture my bottom lip with my teeth, chewing on it. "Hunt?" My voice is hardly above a whisper, and I raise a thin eyebrow.

"Alice, you know tha-" Somehow, someway he got the wrong idea about it. I roll my eyes, dropping my head as I speak once more.

"Animals." I say, my head lifting slowly, hesitatingly nearly. "Not people. //Unless//...." It was wrong, but my eyes - I could //more// than feel it; I could nearly see it, as if a mirror was placed in front of my face, showing all of the flaws, mistakes that I was making...- clouded with fear. Before I can finish my sentence, before I can start my speech that I //would// follow him no matter what he decided (the excuse of refusing to be lonely any more seemed to work...//somewhat// at the least...), he's speaking once more, wide hand raised.

"I don't." He says, simply, letting his hand stretch towards mine, palm open.

My eyes feel nearly childish, as I look into his eyes. Full of pain, astonishment, and that hint- dare I say it? - //near// love blazing through his eyes; I wonder, how could my mere, amber eyes ever compare?

Our skin meets and that electric shock sears through the both of us- the same since our first day, weeks back.

He can apparently tell of my uncertain thoughts, those of how our eyes were far too, as his large thumb begin to slowly rub against my small palm. I nearly melt, and we begin to walk out of our small hotel room. I wonder, //nearly// absentmindedly; why on //earth// can he not inflict the same motions that he's pouring into my palm with his lips, preferably against mine?

We're out of the lobby, and he removes the pair of sunglasses that I had bought from him days before. I suppress a giggle - I had to admit; he was //more// than adorable with his irked facade, his body slouching at the fact that it's nearly a necessity for him to wear it. He scrunches his nose down at my amused expression in the most mock-annoyance manner that I've seen throughout my years. It could nearly be called an over dramatic turn on his white, scarred face.

The urge to kiss the tip of his scrunched nose builds upon me, but is quickly thrown, as he pulls harder on my arm, his skin tense against mine. I dance to his side, mentally beating myself up for letting my emotions get the better of me once more. Every time, I seem to forget of his "gift", of what he can feel. I bit my lip; could it be possible that he could feel the same?

My thoughts are immediately thrown off, as my face hits the outside air. Only a thin layer of clouds hover overhead, the sun glimmering here and there, reflecting off of my red 50's Ford Coupe. I grin, relishing in the beauty that was //my// baby.

Even though I had just paid of it weeks before, exactly two weeks before I had meet Jasper to be exact, it still stunned me on how something //that// beautiful could be created by the mortals of America on this day.

I take a loud breath through my teeth, and with that, I feel the presence next to me, who's dark, covered eyes are staring down at me. Wearily, I raise a thin brow at him. I know that he isn't a huge fan of the sun, and I immediately take it as a fear to be near such a thing, as he said before: "was the one thing that always brought clarity to his past, the ones he killed, the mistakes that he made in his past". Disarmingly, he grins, however, taking a small step closer to me.

What he's about to do flashes through my eyes, and I raise my hands up with a giggle.

"Don't you //dare//, Whitlock..." I back away from him, but suddenly, I'm thrown over his shoulder, whisking through the December breeze.

A squeal escapes my lips, slapping his back with my tiny palm.

"Let me down, Jasper! I //am// able to walk on my own, really..."

He lets out a loud laugh, one that I hadn't heard of from him.

"And let you, a proper and lady of such dignity sparkle right in front of the unsuspecting crowd of mortals?" His arms tighten against the back of my knees, and his tone gets lower. "I would //never//."

I gulp loudly, but quickly give up once I feel the definite swift of the forest trees.

"Jas-"

Strong arms are places around my waist, before I can finish, and I'm put upright. I can hardly estimate measure the distance from my eyes to his soft, luscious lips as they dip near mine, hoovering. My head begins to spin, and he's thrown off of me, in some fashion, feet away.

I want to scream; my hands clenching into fists. Can't he just...//do// it already? He'd already revealed his gift to me, using it upon me numerous times. Was he immune to passion, raw one at that?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I realllllllly didn't think that anyone would want more of this, but here it is! I may just write other Jalice fics in the same sort of format, if anyone has any suggestions. =)

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His playful grin pulls me out of my thoughts and relishing in the mere beauty that is him. I know well that he'd never show a peep of contentment or even utter a word in fear that something that he'd say would make me fall more for him.

/'What a fool he is...'/ I think, crouching down with narrow eyes, ready to pounce on him.

He extends his hands, fingers curling, beckoning me towards him. I twist my lips wickedly at him, legs pushing forward as I speed towards his direction. My hands yearn to grab at his shirt, pulling him down and finally be able to give him what he needs for teasing me in the way that he has throughout the weeks that we've spend together...

...But, he sprints. Sprints further and further, his husky chuckles echoing tree after tree that he passes. I stand, watching him with bemused eyes, before I, too, sprint along.

My tiny heels slosh against the wetting grass, and I know that they're far from being rescued at this point. I start feeling the moist soil slap along my ankles as my feet grind deeper, steps quickening. My face twists in mild agony of knowing that another limited edition Prada shoe has to be utterly destroyed, and much like my others, be given the proper burial. Jasper, I know, will find the whole situation to be an utter amusement...somehow, he yet hadn't learned the importance that the two words 'limited edition' were in the world of fashion.

I start spotting his golden blond hair off in the distance, laughter, now, erupting from him. Dangerously, I narrow my eyes -- I can see him mouth out something of 'shoes' and 'more dirt up ahead'. My feet quicken and with a swift sprint, I clench my legs around his torso, my arms flinging around his neck as I attempt to stay on.

"Caught-cha!" I squeal into his ear, trying to rear him to a stop. Laughing heartily, he squeezes each of my hands. Instantly, I notice how much...larger his hand is to mine -- I feel as a child on her father's shoulders, than a girl on her crush's shoulders.

That thought is thrown out of my mind as he pulls my hands tighter around his neck and I can feel the coolness of his skin beneath my nimble fingers. His red eyes flash up towards me, smirking wildly.

"Ready to hunt, little one?"

My eyes widen.

"On...o-on your back?"

I manage to speak, my voice coming out more giggly than with authority.

His eyes simply flash up at me, his lips twisting in a wicked grin. I can tell already that this won't go easily well -- for his speed quickens, the hem of my dress harshly bellowing through the forest air.

I'm about to speak once more to scowl at him for trying such a thing -- but, it becomes to be far too late. The scents of the meals that I saw before begins to inhabit my every senses and their musky selves slowly emerge from the greenery ahead. Jasper seems to crouch at the sight of them, licking his lips in anticipation.

I take this moment to attempt to take myself off of him, but his hands quickly come alive, holding me close as his steps start becoming farther and farther apart, nearly gliding along the moist grass. My eyes shut, burrowing my face against his golden locks.

There's no way out of this one...no visions to figure out a way to change the quickly changed future that Jasper set out for us, and no time to think or use my so called 'charm' to flutter my eyelashes out of this. I find this to be.../strange/, as I hear Jasper's jaw set into the doe, the spine of it easily cracking as his lips begin to suck out it's nectar.

How unbelievably easily he can do it. To change my future and his with a blink of an eye, when my own future has always been to the small diner in Philadelphia and to greet the red eyed gent.

I wonder if /this/ was what I was suppose to be lead to: an actual life, where things were never to turn out exactly as I see them, never to happen when I expect them to, and where things have the unconditional way of turning out in a way to make me smile...grin...laugh...giggle...or as Jasper prefers to refer it as exploding in a flurry of /his/ hope.

My mind also wanders off to where I /could/ purchase -- or rather bribe someone -- the same shoe that I begin to feel slide off of my tiny foot in the exact same not-too-easily found shoe size. I write this off as my mind showing signs of short term memory...or of that I'm becoming a gold fish. Wasn't there a saying that said that those with a mind like a goldfish couldn't stand to have their attention at one thing for far too long?

I'm yanked away from the fleeting memory as I hear Jasper speak, his teeth bloody as he grins. "Want some?"

Hungry myself, I lean down, legs sliding higher up his abdomen to properly secure my jaw against it's fleshy wound. It's warm, oozing nectar floods down my throat as my cheeks hallow out as I suck. I can hardly tell Jasper's arms slid up the back of my thighs, but my head jerks as I feel his smooth fingers begin to roll tight circles back down.

I'm met with a set of piercing red eyes, curiosity and admiration surging through them. They flinch with utter lust as my nimble finger wipes away a line of blood that seems to have splattered along his brow.

A faint smirk begins to spread slowly across his heavily scarred face, and I, too, return the smirk. Not knowingly, without a thought, I press my nose against him, giggling as I feel him chuckle tightly along my lips. His scarred finger slid along my bottom lip, and I, instinctively, take the tip between my lips, giving it a brief, light kiss.

I pull away, lips pried open as his eyes darken...for not thirst, it seems, but for something more. Harshly, I feel a hand grab the back of my head, and my lips are on his.

Fire surges between us -- innocently at first, but quickly gaining momentum, as I feel his lips move along mine. He pulls my lips open with his, swiftly his tongue sliding along my bottom as I let out a gasp. I can see his eyes darkening as he pushes his lips harshly to mine; his hands sliding towards the back of my head as he slowly pulls me down. I can feel the mud push against my dark locks, but it isn't a matter to me as I slowly push my lips harder against mine.

Our emotions seem to intertwine -- his lust intensifying with mine...and that something more that I can't help but refer to as the true and oh-so stereotypical 'love'. He pulls away, now, lips sliding down my neck as I hear him murmur...mutter...whisper something incoherent. Odd. My brows twist together, but I seem not to be able to ask, for he pulls me back up.

Mud inhabits each lock of our hair and our faces are smeared with the filth; chests heaving. My tiny hands don't seem to care. Sliding up to his eyes, I twist his own brows back straight. He pops his swollen lips open to speak, and he speaks not of the occurrence between us. With a swift, tight smile, he whispers against my own lips.

"Should be getting back, shouldn't we?"

It seems as if my opinion doesn't matter in this manner, for he begins already to speed between the forest trees, heading back to the hotel. I don't remember how I got back on his back -- it feels as if the moment hadn't happened and the hunt was simply what it was and nothing more.

I can't help but to think if /this/ is the way that he meant it -- and neither can I stop myself in thinking of what he murmured as his lips trailed down my neck.

Was it ---? Could it --?

/Those/ four words that I always heard from other mouths for other beings that I oh-so always wanted to have for myself?

I bit my lip as he pulls me down off of his back. He doesn't take my hand as we make our way back to our hotel room. Walking along the halls, I feel that as if my answer is set...that it /was/...that it /had/ to be...that if fate was right about each of their journeys to have them meet at the exact same time in the same city, /this/.../this/ fate had to be right about.


End file.
